


Pressure 2: Pressure Points

by grey853



Series: Pressure [2]
Category: XF - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the sequel to "Pressure", Mulder stays at Walter Skinner's apartment during his recovery while the two try to figure out their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pressure 2: Pressure Points

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to XFreak for proofing and such solid support.

Title: Pressure 2: Pressure Points  
Author: Grey  
Fandom: XF  
Pairing: Mulder/Skinner  
Rating: NC-17  
Status: New/Complete  
Archive: Yes  
Email: [Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com)  
Series/Sequel: Second in the Pressure Series.  
Website: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net>

Notes: Thanks to XFreak for proofing and such solid support. 

Disclaimers: Not mine, but someday. 

Summary: In the sequel to "Pressure", Mulder stays at Walter Skinner's apartment during his recovery while the two try to figure out their relationship. 

Warnings: Approach with caution. The "L" word is used. 

* * *

**Pressure Points**  
by Grey  
[Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com?subject=Pressure%20Points)

* * *

Flipping the light switch, Walter recognized the absence of Mulder as a weighted twist in his gut, a loss laced with disappointment. Locking the door, he put his briefcase on the desk and scanned the empty room. No contraband files littered the coffee table, no laptop ran secret databases, and his TV stood quiet in the corner, no SF marathon playing eerie music as his young lover kissed him in greeting. Bottom line, no Mulder. Damn. Only five days and he had it bad. He needed Mulder more than he ever wanted to need anyone again. 

Shaking his head, he poured himself a long whiskey and walked to the balcony, the grey skies a mirror to his mood. He welcomed the slow burn of the drink, the liquid heat that seared his tissues down his throat to his belly, the gentle warmth like tendrils easing the nagging ache of worry. Mulder should be home. Home? Walter's home. Their home. Shit. What the hell was he thinking? Living with Mulder? Jesus. 

He put the glass down and headed upstairs to the main bathroom to find Mulder's things still on the sink, his dirty clothes stuffed into a duffel bag in the corner, ready to leave at a moment's notice. Closing the toilet lid, he sagged down, relieved and yet still anxious. As he rubbed his temples, the pounding grew worse, the pressure around his head like a wide band squeezing tighter and tighter. Worrying about Mulder's latest disappearing act didn't help, but only added to the ton of other questions gnawing all through his thoughts, his brain working over time and running in circles. 

Suddenly he heard the sound of a key, the door opening and closing, and the thud of a man falling with a loud groan and, "Well, shit." 

He made it down the stairs in a matter of seconds, his heart racing. Mulder sat on the floor dressed in wet sweats and rubbing his right ankle, his face pale and sweaty, his broken left wrist held to his chest without his sling. 

"Are you all right? What happened?" 

"Tripped over my own feet looks like. Shit. I can't believe this." 

"Let me see." Kneeling, he ran his fingers over the swollen area, noting the dark discoloration and the heat radiating from the soft tissue. "It's not broken, but you didn't just do this." 

"I know, but it wasn't this bad." 

"Until you walked on it." 

"Yeah, well, I didn't have enough money for a cab." 

Staring into the guilty hazel eyes, Walter frowned. "Let's get you up on the sofa. Put your weight on me." He stretched his arm under Mulder's and across his back, lifting him over to the seat. "Take your shoe off while I get some ice." 

Quietly, Mulder obeyed while Walter got the towel and cold compress. Sitting on the end of the couch, he packed it around the damaged limb and then shifted over to the chair. Avoiding his eyes, Mulder took off his other shoe and fussed with his wounded ankle. 

After several minutes of not talking, Walter finally asked, "Well?" 

"Well what?" 

"Are you going to tell me?" 

"Tell you what?" 

His patience pushed, Walter leaned forward. "Don't pull this shit with me, Mulder. We're not at the office. You just got out of the hospital a few days ago and you're not supposed to be out walking much less running." 

"Who said I was running?" 

"Are you going to sit there and tell me you weren't?" 

Grimacing as he touched the wrong spot, Mulder sat back and faced him. "Okay, so I was out running. So what? I've been cooped up here for days and I just needed to get out. It wasn't raining when I left and I thought I'd be back before you got home." 

"So you could fool me?" 

"So I wouldn't worry you." 

They stared at one another, both defiant, the high emotion charging the air. "I don't like games, Mulder. If you want to go out, go out, but don't lie about it, don't make me think something else is going on when it's not." 

Sitting back in the corner, Mulder studied him the way he'd seen him examine suspects, his mind working through the finer points of the mystery of motive. Suddenly his head tilted, his eyes no longer angry. "What are you really saying, Walter? Do you think I'm lying about what I want from you? Is that why you're so upset?" 

Swallowing hard, the observation an arrow aimed too well on target, he deflected. "Did I say that?" 

"No, not directly." 

"So, answer my question. Why did you need to go out running when the doctor hasn't even released you for light duty yet?" 

Sighing, Mulder shrugged, his right arm up and resting on the sofa's edges, his voice still casual. "I told you. I was tired of being stuck here." 

"So, you put yourself in danger?" 

"What danger? I skidded on wet pavement for christsakes. I wasn't even running at the time." 

"Then how did you fall?" 

"I don't know. It just happened." Suddenly defensive, he protested harder. "I'm okay. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" 

Standing, the tension in his arms compounded as he crossed them, he forced himself to stay calm. "Because you're doing what you always do, giving me pieces. You don't just skid while you're standing or walking unless there's a reason. Why can't you just stop hiding things and tell me what happened?" 

Leaning his head back, his eyes squeezed shut, Mulder took a deep breath before complaining. "God, Walter, you make everything so fucking hard." 

"Look who's talking. So, tell me, did someone follow you? Push you down? What?" 

"Nothing like that. I just got a little dizzy, that's all." 

"That's all? Damn it, Mulder, you make me crazy." 

"I know. I tend to do that to people I care about." Still closed off, his eyes shut, Mulder's words barely made a whisper. 

"Oh, hell." Walter moved in closer, using his butt and bulk to scoot Mulder over on the sofa to settle beside him. Wrapping his arms around him, the wet clothes dampening his suit, he kissed the slick neck. "I'm sorry." 

"For what?" Relaxing, Mulder allowed himself to be embraced while still protecting his injured leg. 

"For being an ass." 

"You were just worried." 

"Yeah, I was. I've gotten used to having you here and when you weren't, well, I guess I sort of panicked." 

Chuckling, the vibration warm and inviting, Mulder hugged tighter. "Let me guess, did you go upstairs to check to see if I'd taken all my stuff and gone home yet?" 

"I hate when you do that." 

"What?" 

"Flaunt that you know me." As Mulder turned and started to speak, Walter kissed him instead. Lips parted and tongues wrestled in greeting, the urgent twisting of hot muscle pumping from one mouth to the other, the slide across teeth and gum deliciously salty. Pulling back, he rubbed the back of his hand up the whiskered jawline and smiled. "I never realized I was so transparent." 

"You're not. I'm just a really good observer." The husky voice and teasing smile came with another kiss, this time slower, the sucking and probing quiet and tender. 

Mulder's hand caressed his face, the long fingers dancing and drawing his mind to a swirl, his groin achingly heavy. Air deserted his lungs, and who needed breathing anyway? Locked in, he dove deeper, his whole body pressing forward before Mulder finally broke off the kiss. "Let's go upstairs. If I'm fit to run, I'm ready for far better things." 

Reason gradually punched home the words, and Walter shook his head before resting it on Mulder's shoulder. "No, not yet, but don't think I won't take you up on the offer the second you're well enough." 

"Jesus, Walter. I'm hard, you're hard. What's the problem?" 

"You're still not recovered enough or you wouldn't be lying here with a twisted ankle." 

"Oh." 

"Oh, so, what do you want for supper?" 

Playfully, Mulder rubbed Walter's crotch, the massage tightening his gut, his cock weeping and soaking the fabric. "Whatever you're fixing, sir." 

"You're a pricktease, Mulder." 

"Only because you're a stubborn bastard." 

He leaned in, his mouth just inches away. "Don't be so impatient, Mulder. The week's not up yet." The kiss lasted way past supper time and neither man minded. 

* * *

Taking two more aspirin, Walter braced himself forward against the sink, his head still throbbing. The hot shower and make out session with Mulder didn't help ease the pressure straining his whole body. He just wanted to sleep for a week and wake up in his lover's arms on a warm sandy beach somewhere, anywhere but where _they_ could find them. 

Putting on his glasses, he stared at the man in the mirror, the drawn, rugged features a disappointment. He wiped off the dried white traces of tooth paste and frowned. He used to have hair, lots of it, but not anymore. Brown eyes magnified by stronger and stronger lenses still sparkled, but he saw the pain there, the dashed hopes and too many worries, and he didn't even want to mention the flat nose that seemed to grow bigger each day and grow more hair than his head did. Maybe the doctor should check Mulder's vision along with his reflexes when he went in for his check up tomorrow. 

Tomorrow. 

Tomorrow Mulder would go home to his own place. He took a deep breath and steeled himself against the thought for a little while longer. He couldn't help it. Having Mulder around to talk to, to hold, to sleep with and take care of, all made his life fuller. He hated the thought of losing even a part of it. 

He pulled on his pajama bottoms and left the top on the hook behind the door. Heading out to the bedroom, he found Mulder propped up and reading through an X-file. He'd taken off his sling again and simply held his broken wrist close to his body as he worked. Scattered on the sheet around him were a stack of other folders and pads along with his laptop. He couldn't help smiling as he fussed. "Mulder, you know you're not supposed to be working." 

"I'm not." 

"What do you call it?" 

"Research." 

"Uh huh." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Walter shook his head, picked up one of his own files from the side table and fixed a pillow to lean back against. As he read through the first page describing the Halloway crime scene as written by Special Agent Damon, he stopped and looked up to find Mulder watching him. "What?" 

"Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine, why?" 

"Your cheeks are all flushed. A lot more now than before." 

"I just took a hot shower." 

Mulder put his file down and edged closer, his hand running across his chest, the palm brushing his nipples. "I know, but you also had another headache. You're having a lot of those lately." 

Taking the hand in his, Walter stilled it over his heart and spoke quietly. "I'm okay, Mulder. I'm tired after a long day. There's nothing to worry about." 

"Are you sure? What about your blood pressure?" 

"It's being monitored. Don't worry about it." He kissed the palm and then motioned with his head to Mulder's right foot. "What about your ankle?" 

"Don't change the subject, Walter. You say it's being monitored, but what does that mean? Is it still high? Maybe you should already be on medication." 

Studying the concerned features, he ran his free hand along Mulder's shoulder, the bruises slowly fading to yellow. "Calm down. It's nothing to be this upset about. What's going on with you? Why does it bother you so much?" 

Jerking away, Mulder stood up, limping to the corner of the room, his right arm folded over his plastered left one, holding it to his bare chest like a wounded child. The words came out fast, too fast, the passion running them all together. "It's called the silent killer for a reason. Both my grandparents died from strokes. I've lost friends because they ignored it." The breaking of the words pushed both the frustration and the hurt home. "I don't want to lose you because you've got this macho idea that you can handle everything on your own." 

"If I can deal with aliens and global conspiracies, this is nothing to get worked up over. I'm taking care of it." 

"Don't make a fucking joke out of this, Walter. I'm serious." 

"I can see that." Pausing, his head still pounding, he held out a hand. "I'm sorry. Come back to bed." 

"You'll do something about it tomorrow?" 

"If it means that much to you, sure. I'm going with you to get checked out tomorrow anyway. Now, come back to bed." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise." 

Without saying a word, a reluctant Mulder cleared the bed of clutter and then crawled under the sheets, sliding in beside him, his good arm wrapped around his waist. Stroking his hair, Walter whispered, "What's really going on with you, Mulder?" 

After several tense moments, he relaxed, his voice still anxious, but calmer. "I'm sorry about that. Overreaction, huh?" 

"Yeah, a little." He waited awhile longer, the younger man still too quiet. "Tell me, Mulder. What happened?" 

"I had a friend at Oxford. A good friend." 

"By a good friend, do you mean lover?" 

"Yeah. This was before Phoebe. He was a professor, a great guy, and one of the brightest people I've ever met." 

"A professor?" 

"He taught one of my psych courses. At the end of my freshman term, we got together. He was married, so we had to be careful." Walter bit his tongue trying not to say anything and waited for the punch line. "Being bisexual's not easy, not even in England." 

"What was his name, this married bisexual professor that you slept with as a kid?" 

"Don't do that." 

"Don't do what?" 

"Use that condescending, judgmental tone. And I wasn't a kid. I knew what I wanted, and Edward gave it to me. He was the first man I ever slept with, or at least the first one who ever counted." 

"What do you mean the first one who ever counted?" 

"I don't want to talk about that. It doesn't matter." The tension returned as his muscles tightened. 

"Okay." Hugging him closer, he rested his chin on Mulder's dark hair, the smell clean from his earlier shower. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like a jealous ass. So, tell me about Edward." 

"There's no need to be jealous. He's dead. He had high blood pressure, but wouldn't take the pills" 

"Why not?" 

"He said they had side effects, but fuck, Walter, he died of a stroke at forty. What side-effect is worse than that?" 

"None I can think of." 

Mulder's voice settled, tired of working so hard. "I was pissed for a long time. Hated him for leaving me." 

"I'm not leaving, Mulder. If anyone does that, it'll be you." 

He swallowed in the silence and finally formed the quiet words. "This is really more intense than I expected." 

"I know. Love's like that." 

The groan surprised him as Mulder pulled away and sat up, his face oddly sad. "You didn't have to say that." 

"Why not? I do love you, even though I've never actually said it before." 

His head down, Mulder pulled away and brought his legs up, hugging them to his body while he spoke softly. "I'm not sure how I feel." 

"I know. That's okay, too. For now." 

"For now?" 

"Yeah. You'll get there when you get there, Mulder. Until then, will you do me a big favor?" 

Brown eyes flecked with rich green stared at him, the face still worried. "What?" 

"Relax. And just let me hold you." Reaching out his arms once again, Mulder shrugged with a small smile and crawled back to him. Cradled together, he whispered, "For a man who fights monsters, Mulder, you sure do scare easy." 

"The L word can bite your ass harder than any monster ever thought about." 

"You've got a point." 

"So, let's just not talk about it for now, okay?" 

"If you say so, but would it bother you too much if I pretended you loved me back just a little?" 

The catch in breathing sounded huge in the quiet as Mulder shifted beside him. The younger man moved in close and kissed his cheek before he whispered. "Do whatever makes you happy, Walter." Hands tenderly stroked his chest and down his belly while Mulder's talented mouth entertained him, each lick and nibble all the better to pretend with. 

* * *

"What are you doing?" Mulder stood in the doorway wearing nothing but black boxers and plaster and scratching his head. "It's four in the morning." 

"Then why aren't you upstairs sleeping?" 

"Because I'm down here watching you sort and fold dirty clothes. I mean, who the hell folds dirty clothes?" 

Ignoring the question, Walter finished putting the darks in the basket and piling the whites on top. He patted them down and then pushed his glasses up higher. "I just thought I'd wash these so they'd be clean before you packed." 

"Packed?" 

"I didn't want you to have to carry home dirty clothes. I mean, I need to do mine anyway, so I thought I'd run them to the laundry downstairs." 

Mulder slumped down in the chair at the table, easing his right leg closer and shaking his head. "So, do you usually do your laundry this time of night?" 

"I couldn't sleep." 

"I know the feeling." 

"Why don't you go on back to bed? I'll come up later." 

"You going to pack for me, too?" The sarcastic tone cut sharp and he met the hurt eyes watching him. 

"Is that what you want, Mulder?" 

"What I want, is for you to be honest. Do you want me to go?" 

"Are you saying you want to stay?" 

"I asked first." 

Sitting down, he pushed the cap back from his forehead and then put his elbows on the table, his hands up and fisted in front of his face. He avoided looking at his lover while he spoke, his words tight. "You'll be off leave tomorrow, back to work." 

"I know." 

"I've liked you being here." 

"I know that, too." 

"I want you to stay, but I also know that we're just starting together. And, let's face it, it's going to be hard to keep it from people if you move in." 

"And would it bother you if people found out?" 

"I could lie and say no, but I won't. If I'm outed, I could lose the X-files. I couldn't do anything to protect you if that happens." He bit his lip and closed his eyes while he continued, his body too tight, vibrating just under the skin. "They're trying all the time, Mulder. You've got no idea how many ways they're trying. This could be the one thing that could work." 

"What? That two grown men share expenses?" 

He opened his eyes and stared at Mulder, the face whiskered and the eyes still a bit sleepy. "I don't want to keep lying. If they ask, I'll tell." 

"Really?" 

"Really." 

Nodding while a great big yawn took over his face, Mulder finally smiled. "Okay, but what if they don't ask? What if we just keep on like we are? I can keep my place, but stay here. Why waste a perfectly good spare key?" 

"No reason I can think of." 

"We could at least see how it goes. If it doesn't work out, if we can't stand each other after another week or two, there's nothing to tell. Of course, we're assuming anyone cares enough to ask." 

"Is that what you really want?" 

"What I really want is your ass back in bed." Before he could answer, Mulder stood and took his hand and tugged. "Come on. You can do our laundry later after we get a better chance to dirty up some more sheets." 

He didn't have to ask twice. 

* * *

"Mulder, you look pretty good for a man who got run over by a motorcycle." 

Glancing up from the pile of forms, he met the laughing blue eyes of his partner. "Thanks, Scully. You look spiffy, too." And she did. As usual she wore a well-fitted suit, dusty brown, her hair combed back, her face pale and perfect. 

"Seriously though, Mulder, how are you?" 

"I'm fine, Scully. The doctor says I have to ride a desk for a few weeks, but after that I should be okay for any and all field trips." 

"Good." She stepped over and sat in the chair by his desk, her chin resting on her upraised hand as she smiled. "Don't let this go to your head, Mulder, but I have to admit I missed you this last week. Working alone has its drawbacks." 

"Such as?" 

"Such as not having anyone to talk to about his love life since I don't have one to speak of." 

Flushing, he looked away, the teasing grin on his partner's face not enough reason to keep eye contact. "I can't really talk about that, Scully." 

"Ah, come on, Mulder." She paused for a moment before she nudged him affectionately, her voice suddenly more serious, but soft. "I'm sorry. I really don't want details. I just want to know that things are okay." 

Meeting her eyes this time, he noted the genuine concern. "It's better than okay, Scully." 

"Better? How?" 

"I can't explain it." 

"Mulder, you can explain cloning and alien hybridization with humans and you can't explain your relationship with Skinner?" 

Shrugging, he leaned back, his mind searching for a way to put into words the desperate ache he had to be with Walter without revealing too much even to Scully. "He's a good man." 

"Yeah, he is." 

"I need that." 

"And?" 

"And what? I mean, I don't know if this will work out any better than anything else I've ever done in my life, but we get along mostly. Right now we're just sort of feeling each other out." 

"I'm not touching that line." 

He laughed, the release good after the pressure of secrets. "It's not like that, not really. Not since the accident." 

"That was no accident, Mulder. Martin used a remote control device to run you down." 

"Scully, there was no device. The whole bike's been examined by experts." 

"Then it's something we haven't found yet." 

"Yeah, I know. The demon who drove it." 

"I still don't accept that." 

"That's because you didn't hear it laughing its bony ass off when it flew over me one last time." He chuckled to himself and then looked up to find her watching him again. "I'm serious, Scully. It was a demonic laugh if I ever heard one. Sounded like Cigarette man on helium." 

She tilted her head and nodded, "Put that in the report, and I'm sure Skinner will have no problem signing it." She took a deep breath and then asked, "So, it's good between you two so far then? Do I still need to bring your mail to Crystal City?" 

"Yeah, it's good, Scully, and thanks, but I'll start picking up my own mail now that I can drive." 

"And what about the fish?" 

"The fish will get fed. I'm not giving up my apartment." 

"But I should use your cellphone number if I want you after work, right?" 

"Right, so enough about me. How'd you manage without me for nearly a week?" 

"Actually, I was out of town for two days checking on that lead in the Spenser case." She got up and brought the file to his desk and acted like he knew what she meant. 

"What lead?" 

"Didn't Skinner tell you?" 

"Tell me what?" 

"Okaaay." Picking up the file, she pulled out the article and handed it to him directly. The headline read, "Two-year-old Quotes BIBLE Cover to Cover". 

"I went to Valdosta, Georgia, to check it out, and just got back last night. Skinner okayed the 302 a couple of days ago. It's a hoax, by the way. The mother was using a tape. The kid has a future as a singer if she ever wants to lip sync though. Pretty entertaining, except for 'Revelations', which you just can't dance to." 

Staring at the folder, the chill washed over him, thinking back over the last few days when Walter could've said something and didn't. "So, Skinner knew about this? Let you go by yourself?" 

"Well, it's not like it was dangerous. Two-year-olds can be terrors, but I'm trained and carry a gun." 

"That's not the point." 

"What is the point?" 

"He should've told me." 

* * *

Sipping at his beer, Walter watched Mulder scoot one of his green beans all over the plate and then smash it into mush with a vengeance before he finally asked, "Something bothering you, Mulder?" 

"I saw Scully today." 

"It's a small office. I figured." 

"Don't be a smart ass." 

"Then tell me what's going on." 

Mulder met his eyes as he spoke, his voice accusing. "You didn't tell me about the Spenser file." 

"So?" 

"So? You let Scully go out on a case by herself, a case I knew nothing about." He stood up and left the room, the anger spearing his whole body, the energy near spark level. Taking a deep breath, Walter stood and cleaned up the table. As he finished wrapping up the leftover steak, Mulder came to the doorway. "What the hell are you doing?" 

"I don't like to leave things. Besides, you looked like you needed to cool down before we talked." 

"Don't fucking handle me, Walter. Just tell me why you didn't tell me about the case. Were you protecting me or something?" 

Pressure in his head beat harder, the pain like a huge fist squeezing his brain. He wanted to scream and say fuck and every other curse word he could think of, but he didn't. Instead, he kept his voice calm, his words even. "You were on leave. I overlooked you having files you weren't supposed to have, but I didn't see any point in giving you a new one, one which you couldn't work on anyway." 

"You didn't see any point?" 

"No, Mulder, I didn't." 

"Well, you should have. I don't like Scully going out on her own. Something could've happened, and I had no clue what she was even working on." 

"But I did." 

"But you're not me." 

He turned and left the kitchen and this time Walter followed. At the top of the stairs, he watched Mulder shoving his things in his bag. "So, you're leaving?" 

"This isn't going to work out." 

"One misunderstanding and you're gone?" 

"It's more than that." 

"That's for sure." 

Turning at the tone, Mulder stared, meeting his eyes, the anger slipping, but not far. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"It means you're scared shitless. This thing with Scully is nothing and you know it. I knew you'd find out about the case as soon as you went in today. If I'd thought it was important, I would've told you. But you don't want to hear that. No, you want to pack your bag and run away with any excuse, because the idea of not being able to control every little thing in your life, every person, Scully and me, is enough to make you run home and sit in the dark all alone and wallow in your own mess." 

"That's bullshit." 

"Is it? You think by knowing about the case, if something had happened, you could've done anything? No. If something had happened, you could've blamed yourself for not being there. You could've felt guilty about it. That's what you're used to." 

"Just stop it." He sat down on the end of the bed, his shoulders slumped and his hand to his head. 

"It's not so much fun when somebody knows your secrets, is it, Mulder? The thing is, I know you better than you think. You're not the only person who's been observing for the last five years." 

"Then why am I here?" 

"What?" 

"Why am I here? If you know me, then you know there's no way in hell this can work out." 

Walter shook his head, stepped to the bed and threw the bag on the floor to make room to sit next to Mulder. Wrapping his arm around his shoulders, he pulled him in closer, the resistance hardly there. "I heard a speech about extreme possibilities once and believed it." 

"God, I hate when my own words are used against me." 

He hugged him and leaned in, his lips near his ear as he whispered, "Don't leave." 

Kissing the back of the bowed neck, he drank in the rush of shudders vibrating his tongue. He eased Mulder's body around and lifted his head up. "I love you. You've got to believe that no matter what I do, I do it for you. The only reason I still hang in there through all the bullshit at the Bureau is because I know you need me, and strangely enough, that need is something that makes me love you all that much more." 

"You talk too much, Walter." Using his one good hand, Mulder removed his glasses and then pressed hard in the middle of his chest, sending his body back flat on the bed, his feet still on the floor. Standing up, the younger man used his knees to spread his thighs and then moved between them. He let his weight settle over the top of him, chest to chest, groin to groin. Walter's cock twitched hallelujah and grew heavier, the restriction of clothes and Mulder's rocking against him a delicious battle to be won. 

"Oh, god." A mouth gobbled his words, a tongue pushing in and swabbing his gums, hungry and eager. Mulder's beard rubbed against his, the scratching pure fire and pleasure growing wild as lips kissed all around his face and down his throat. Sucking at his neck drove his brain into a thick haze, a gauzy blanket fuzzing his thoughts to nothing but gibberish. 

His own hands got busy stripping Mulder and himself, buttons popping free, belts gone, zippers going down, tee-shirts thrown off the bed along with boxers and briefs until nothing but sweaty flesh pressed and rubbed like crazy. He rolled the younger man beneath him, his nipples dark targets as he licked and blew and enjoyed the writhing, the soft moans as Mulder bucked up against his leaking erection. Sliding down further, he sipped at the tip, the crown satiny smooth and tangy against his lips. He swallowed the length, bobbing his head, his tongue pressing up against the thick vein. Using a spit-slicked finger, he invaded the crack, found the tight spot and pushed in, the reaction whimpers and the fervor of, "Oh, Jesus." over and over as he pumped. 

On the verge of coming, Mulder worked his own body, and Walter stopped and stretched back up and over. "Tell me what you want." 

"God, don't stop." 

"But is this what you want?" 

Fevered eyes, desperate for coming, met his and shook his head. "Fuck me." 

"I'll make love to you, but I won't fuck you." 

Closing his eyes, his hand on his own cock, Mulder groaned, "God, you don't understand. I like fucking. I like the word and like doing it, and I don't care what you call it, just fuck me. Please." 

The pitiful begging touched him and Walter kissed the pouty mouth. "Your wish." His words came out hushed as he reached over to the bedside table quickly, his hands soon busy rolling the condom and slicking his fingers with more gel. 

In the meantime, Mulder rolled over, his ass high and his legs spread. "Want you so bad." 

"I want you, too, Mulder, for ages." 

Kneeling behind him, he ran his hands along the thighs and steadied the shivering hips, the skin slippery and hot. Using one hand to brace himself, he used the other to finger the ass, the opening red and glistening before he eased the tip of his cock to the muscular circle. Despite the preparation, he pressed hard to push past the resistance, watching it wrap around him, the soothing heat sending shock waves to his spine, his gut pleading for more. He spooned against him, his left hand wrapping the flagging erection, soon back to full force, Mulder's panting breath adding to delight. Each thrust took him deeper, each pump closer to being completely inside Mulder. His cock reached the limit and he rested there, his head on his lover's shoulder as he prayed in a gasping hush. "I love you, Mulder." 

"God, I love you, too." 

And with those words, he kissed the salty neck and slowly made love to the one person who mattered in his life. 

His fist pumped Mulder with the same rhythm he found as he played at pushing and pulling, stroking his cock into a heavenly crush of satin and velvet. The burden of love never seemed lighter as pressure expanded his bones and spun his blood through his body, the flash of memories not needed. His gut strained to hold together, his muscles capturing his bones, smothering the screaming, the air too thin to carry even a murmur. Inside his head, a swarm of reds and purples stormed and coiled, the greens already surrendering to the building, the slow climb as ripples collected. The urgent desire to release all at once drew his every tissue in on itself before exploding, the spasms hitting him like seizures, helpless and surrendering himself up to the reward of his cock's arrival to kingdom come. 

He couldn't keep himself from falling forward, barely conscious, his body still not completely working. Lying beneath him, Mulder's breathing continued to race. 

"You okay, Mulder?" 

"Yeah, but you're a little heavy." The voice came out dreamy and pleased, the way Walter wanted to hear Mulder sound as many times as possible. 

"No problem." 

Easing up and out, he carefully removed the condom and tossed it. He got up, went to the bathroom and cleaned himself quickly. When he returned with a warm cloth, he found Mulder lying on his back, one leg up, his face completely relaxed. "God, you're a hell of a lover." 

"You're not bad yourself. And thanks for starting it." 

"Somebody had to." 

He smiled and lay next to him, cleaning the lean body with both fabric and tongue. When he finished, he put the cloth aside and snuggled in closer, the lingering mix of their musk somehow relaxing. A hand caressed his face as he remained silent, drinking in the pleasant connection. 

"This is nice, Walter." 

"Yeah, it is." 

"And you're right." 

"About what?" 

"About me being scared." Easing in closer, Mulder shut his eyes and took a deep breath before he added, "But another week couldn't hurt." 

"Or a month." 

"I've seen stranger things happen." 

Embracing him, Walter nodded as Mulder rested his head on his bare chest, the whiskers teasing his nipple with promise. His greedy heart no longer feared the inexplicable, but offered it solace in exchange for survival. He squeezed his eyes shut and repeated his silent prayer of keeping Mulder safe, wrapped in his arms forever. 

* * *

The end


End file.
